Swallow
by steelneena
Summary: OOMPH band fanfiction - Dero Goi always knew that his job would conflict with his family time. What he didn't realize was how difficult it would be for him to handle it. Contains german language.


He found her, weeping, when he returned home from the airport that day. He had only been gone for a week or so - it wasn't like the other times. So why was she shedding her tears now? Quickly, Dero hastened to his wife's side, pulling her up and into his strong arms, holding her close. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he could feel her tears seeping into his T-shirt. He felt like such a bastard. Always it was when he was away that something happened, good or bad. And he was never there for it. To be there for Jocelyn, Roran and Matti when they needed him the most. Oh how he wished that he could be there for them more often than he was, but it was so hard, with the band and everything.

"Jocelyn, baby, hey. Mein Schatz, was ist passiert?" he spoke softly, rubbing circles gently on her back, nuzzling her ear with his nose, before letting his chin rest on her head. He wasn't sure if she would ever stop crying long enough to give him an answer. Dero tensed when she sobbed, and began crying anew, whimpering at the lack of breath. Oh, Gott, what had happened?

His first thought was of the boys; where were they? He shook off the thought. They were probably at his mother's like always on Samstag. Dero inhaled and exhaled, breathing deeply, clearing his mind. He tried to focus only on comforting his darling wife, gently tightening his embrace, kissing the top of her head, lightly, waiting.

Waiting.

"Shatzi, hey, if it was something that I did-" he stopped speaking as she suddenly looked up, her large brown eyes wide and wild, red with her sorrow.

"Did? You? How can you do anything if you aren't here?" she fairly shrieked accusingly. He closed his eyes in shame, sighing deeply, head bowed. He knew that the tears were now falling in silent streaks down her face, leaving trails that he would have gladly have kissed away.

"I'm sorry, mein schatz, I-" he began, voice deep and low, biting his lip. He knew it. He knew what was coming. She stood up, leaving the space on the couch beside him feeling empty and cold. He didn't consciously think it but he was bracing himself for the verbal barrage. But her continuing accusations never came. She had sobbed once more before sinking back onto the couch and leaning into her husband.

Jocelyn wanted him closer. Always closer. She missed him, every time that he went away. And the boys! Oh, they loved their wacky father. Matti always asked her to do the 'conversation with a sheep', "Just like Vatti, Mutti, bitte? Kannst du?" She couldn't. But today, today was worse than anything that Roran or Mattias had ever been disappointed about. And Dero hadn't been here to go through it with her. He was never there anymore, it seemed.

But she still loved him.

And she knew that he loved her.

But it was always _so_ hard!

"Komm doch, mein schatz," he prodded quietly. "Was ist? Was ist passiert? I love you, always, I'm sorry I wasn't here. Share with me your pain, bitte?" He pulled her tight once more, rubbing one hand up and down her arm, the other resting on her back.

There was silence. Jocelyn sniffed once before muttering incoherently into Dero's chest. "Lauter mein schatz, Ich kann dich nicht hören," She pulled away from his comforting embrace as she sat up, and wiped the tears from her face with her hand. Dero waited patiently as she composed herself.

"Derrick, meine mutter…Sie ist tot. I got the phone call yesterday. She had a heart attack Derrick! She was days away from her sixty second, and she had a heart attack. Gone… Just like that. My mother Derrick! I don't know…I…I… what will I do without her? She was always here. Always…She isn't coming back,"

"Komm, mein liebe. I'm here for you know. Swallow your frown, my love. Dry your tears, and let me see your pretty face. You know that your mother wouldn't have wanted you to cry like this. She believed in Gott, und Himmel. I'm sure that she is looking down on you, telling you that she is fine, and that she is happy. She loved you, just as you loved her," he consoled, taking her slender hands in his, covering them wholly.

She smiled at him halfheartedly, not really believing what he said, but taking comfort in his gentle and consoling nature. He leaned forward and kissing the skin just below her hairline tenderly, lovingly. Pulling back, he bit his lip and stared into her eyes, still red and puffy from crying, and spoke.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, Jocelyn. I should have been. I should be all the time. And I hate being away from you, but I can't just not enjoy the time that I spend in the band and with our music. And I think that I get carried away sometimes. And for that I am truly sorry. I should call you every day I'm gone, and I don't. I don't hear the boys' voices every day. My own sons, Jocelyn! What kind of father am I?

"You know something?" he continued after a sudden silence. "The first thing I thought when I saw you crying was that something had happened to one of them. To Matti, to Roran. While I'd been gone. I was terrified, schatzi!" He let his head fall into his hands in shame and emotion. "I would never forgive myself, you know. If something happened to one of you while I was gone. I couldn't help thinking, whatever it was, I could have stopped it had I been there, whatever it could possibly have been,"

And with that, her strong and consoling husband promptly dissolved into tears.

The couple sat there on the couch for some time, just holding each other, sometimes crying. It had been quite the afternoon, but Dero was already sure that the two of them were closer than they had ever been before. And as they sat there, he brought up the faces of his seven year old and his almost four year old. Roran and Mattias. And he searched the misty memories for his own features in their faces, some consolation that his long absences had not erased his presence in their lives.

What he wouldn't give to live a normal life, sometimes. But the music was everything; it made him who he was. And there and then he resolved it. If he wasn't home, he would Skype them all once a day, at night, if he was able, before the boys would go to bed. Maybe then their faces would be clearer in his memory.


End file.
